My Balgo Home - Special Edition

(To the tune of Galleries of Pink Galahs - with apologies to John Williamson)

 

Noisy flocks of Cockatoos;
Locals rarely wearing shoes;
Children’s sores that tend to ooze;
My Balgo Home.




Summer heat with no relief;
Orange sunsets past belief;
Cool winter nights, sadly brief;
My Balgo Home.


Smiling kids with teeth of white;
Town’s folk keen on one more fight;
Milky Way so very bright;
My Balgo Home.





Hunting trips with Elder souls;
Damper on the red hot coals;
Roo tails cook in shallow holes;
My Balgo Home.




 

Long walks through the prickly scrub;
Watching footy from the hub;
Dreams of nights at Halls Creek pub;
My Balgo Home.






                                        

  Sky of blue and earth of red;
Kids come to school to be fed;
Wailing grief when someone’s dead;
My Balgo Home.



Nurses tending smashed up bones;
Flying Doc on airstrip stones;
Covid tests despite the groans;
My Balgo Home.







Bumpy roads that don’t forgive;
Camp dogs scrounge enough to live;
Everyone’s a relative;
My Balgo Home.









Battered cars with glass all lost;
Rego plates and license tossed;
Kids on roof at any cost;
My Balgo Home.


 

Kukaja’s the tongue they speak;
Teachers battle every week;
Often kids just want to sleep;
My Balgo Home.



Gambling circles form each day;
Cards the game they like to play;
Helps to pass the time away;
My Balgo Home.







 

Famous artwork unsurpassed;
Dots tell stories of the past;
Our Balgo days passing fast;
My Balgo Home.



Jeff Grubb; September, 2020.

 

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